An Unwelcome Cellmate
by Zyzyax
Summary: Written for Spyfest 2019 Fic Exchange. Prompt (shortened, full inside): Basically, I want Alex and someone (Yassen, Clone, whoever) tied back to back, chair to chair, or both sharing a support beam in Emperors New Groove style, casually bonding over being captured. Or, Alex and Gordon are tied together in a cell. No Slash! Mild Swearing and blood.


Written for Spyfest 2019 Fic Exchange. Prompt: A reappearing theme/scene is generally two opposing characters tied together/both hostage, bonding and humour while their captors are grossly underprepared for dealing with both of them at once, but competent enough that the two hostages can't escape

Basically, I want Alex and someone (Yassen, Clone, whoever) tied back to back, chair to chair, or both sharing a support beam in Emperors New Groove style, casually bonding over being captured.

example

\- playing I-Spy badly

\- Bonding over horrible missions

\- insulting their capturer in increasingly creative ways

\- being unfazed by the situation

* * *

****An Unwelcome Cellmate****

* * *

Alex was bleeding when they brought him to his cell. Gordon Ross was tied to a chair and definitely pretending to sleep. Alex was roughly shoved into the chair to the back of him. Well, shit. It could be worse, he supposed. "Well, shit."

Gordon "woke up" the second the guards left them alone. "So, Alex, why are you here?"

Alex huffed. "Fuck off, Ross."

Gordon retorted. "Now, now. Is that any way to treat your decrepit old gun instructor?"

Alex attempted to turn around and the ropes dug painfully into his skin. Or at least, he was pretty sure that was what happened. "Decrepit, my ass. What do you want, Ross?"

Gordon leaned back. "Well, I'm bored and want to escape."

Alex was in a piss poor mood. "Join the fucking club and while you're at it shut the fuck up."

Gordon sighed. "They grow up so fast. You were a lot nicer two years ago."

Alex paused. "Didn't you say that niceness was a disease that you would love to beat out of the world?"

Gordon huffed a laugh into submission. "Yes, nice of you to remember."

Alex sighed. He really didn't have the energy to keep actively hating Ross. "How's MI6?"

Alex felt his eyelid twitch. "Fucking terrible, thank you for asking."

Gordon perked up. This could be interesting. If rumors were true, this would be a real soap opera. "Really? What did they do after that whole Rothman episode?"

Alex figured that if someone wanted to listen to him bitch about MI6, they would get their wish. "Well, Alan Blunt deliberately set me up to be hospital buddies with another kid so I could investigate his dad for the CIA, then I got shot into space and possibly committed the first space murder to get my ride back. After that, ASIS picked me up and sent me undercover with ASH to investigate human trafficking. Turns out, they suspected he was a traitor and decided to have me die to prove it. Then, I discovered Winston Yu, the terrifying fucker, was trying to cause a tsunami for profit. He tried to have me forcibly donate my organs. I escaped, burned the place to the ground, and...um...his plan failed and he broke into a million pieces. Or rather, his bones did. Then, they sent me to investigate some dude and didn't believe me when I told them he was going to start a plague for profit, so I had to break a dam to stop him. After that, they epically failed to protect my school and sent me to what I thought was a normal college. As it turns out, Alan Blunt lied. Shock of the year, I know. It was another SCORPIA mission. The CIA decided to waterboard me on the word of a murdering terrorist, instead of, you know, believing the poor spy who they thought was going to kill the Secretary of State, even though I failed out of assassin school because of issues _pulling the trigger_. Then-"

Gordon interrupted. "Dear God, there's more?!"

Alex scowled. "Yes."

Gordon sighed. "Well don't stop now. This is way better than counting grey cement blocks."

Alex coughed. "Then, they sent me to America after my guardian supposedly died. They also didn't believe me when I tried to warn them of _another _SCORPIA plot and told them my guardian was actually still alive, both of which were true, by the way. After that, Tulip promised not to force me into any more missions. Spoiler alert! She did. I had to go on this really shitty undercover assignment where I had to pretend to get brainwashed while not succumbing to yet more torture. I don't know what brainwashed looks like, man, I'm sixteen. Then, I got sent on this shitty-ass assignment where I got shoved in another cell _with you_."

Gordon sat back in his chair, resisting laughter. "Oh, I've missed you and your stories, Alex. You forgot a few murders, like usual, but you have such a wonderful way with words."

Alex scowled. "Shut up, Gordon. I was _tortured_."

Gordon snorted. "So was I, in case you forgot."

Alex shut up. "Well, don't stop now. I want murder details."

Alex actually laughed. "Of course you do. Are you going to grade them, too?"

Gordon attempted to shrug. It failed due to being restrained. "Why not?"

The dulcet tones of a sixteen-year-old rang through the cell. "_ROSS!"_

Gordon dissolved into laughter. This was great.

* * *

Alex was attempting to remain silent. It was becoming increasingly difficult. "C'mon Alex, I need details. I need to hear about you, cocaine, and hookers. I want to hear about the exact shape Winston Yu crumbled into. The look on Nile's face as he "fell off the hot air balloon". C'mon, Alex. Pretty please."

Alex had the look he'd be giving Gordon if they were facing each other on his face. He was not amused. "There was no cocaine and hookers, you pervert."

Gordon groaned. "Why not? I mean, what good is having good looks if you aren't going to use them?"

Alex raised an eyebrow at the opposite wall. "_Excuse_ me?!"

Gordon retorted. "I already have."

Alex scowled. "Gordon, when we get out of this cell, I will murder you, slowly, painfully, and without hesitation."

Ross was unmoved. "I'll give you C plus for believability, A-minus for your actual killing ability, D minus for your creativity, and B plus for your reputation in criminal landed. Congrats, you have a C minus average in death threats."

Alex felt his blood pressure rising. "Did you just _grade _my _death threat_?"

Gordon was barely holding back laughter. Alex was kind of fun to wind up. And the buttons were so easy to push. "Yep. And you can do better. Come on, what happened to whipping people raw and dropping them in salt?"

Alex sighed. Trust Gordon to remember his creative writing - he meant death threat - practice. "I wrote that answer as a joke."

Gordon snorted. "Sure you did. Just like that guy 'fell off a cliff'."

Alex rolled his eyes. "It was an accident."

Ross replied. "Sure it was. I remember the first guy who fell off a cliff around me. Man, that was an inconvenient cliff. And then it happened again. Funny how these things work, am I right?"

Alex had forgotten what complete sociopaths his instructors were. "It's not like that, really."

Gordon seemed to attempt a shoulder nudge of some sort. "Look, kid, it's okay. We both know how well you did in all of your classes. Why not stop fighting yourself deep down?"

Alex wondered when they'd started off into crazy land. "What do you mean?"

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Kid, what are you going to do when we escape?"

Alex shrugged. "Incapacitate a few people, run away, regroup and probably come back and burn the place down. Why?"

Gordon sighed. The kid really didn't see or really didn't want to. "Just think about that answer for a bit."

It was quiet for a while. "They started it by being evil, Gordon."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Kid, you need to decide what you want in life."

Alex was giving a grey block the evil eye. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Ross replied. "Maybe figure out what you want and don't half-ass everything three ways. It'll get you killed."

Alex shifted. The chair was really uncomfortable. "And you care because..."

Gordon coughed. "Kid, I've watched countless students live and die. Some I knew would fail, some were really unexpected. I'd like to see at least one in the elite category live past forty, you know."

Alex was very quiet for a while after that.

* * *

"So...so, you must have stories. What were _they_ like in school?"

Ross sighed. He remembered them. Yassen and Nile. He was even sort of fond of them. "Well, Yassen was an antisocial little twerp. He'd punch you for trying to talk to him and he killed another student in the communal shower. We let him off with a warning because he was very promising. Then, John came along and he ended up...professional, at least."

Alex was now curious. "And Nile?"

Gordon snorted. "Oh, he was always completely amoral, but very social. Very much the opposite of Yassen. He'd host conversations, crack jokes, and was very witty. Rothman already had him picked out. Even if he was number two in the class. Nobody is quite sure what happened to number one, but he was poisoned with a plant from the greenhouse that everyone has access to."

Gordon paused. "Did they ever almost get fired?"

Gordon laughed. "Oh yeah, Nile was what we'd call "a walking conduct issue." There's a reason he got sent to so many war zones, you know."

Alex resisted a Cheshire grin. "So what did he do?"

Gordon groaned at the memory. The teachers always got flack if one of the precious assassins misbehaved. "Well, he was in a client meeting and there was tea. For some reason, this nutjob liked the water insanely hot and with sugar already added. So, the guy did a sword joke and then Nile took the boiling sugar water and dumped it over the guy's head. Then, to cap it all off. The little fucker squirted lemon juice from the lemons for the tea on the guy."

Alex was not exactly shocked. "Then what happened?"

Gordon groaned at the memory. "Well, he got punished and we got yelled at for not 'disciplining the students enough'. I swear it's not our fault they insist we teach the insane fuckers."

Alex resisted the urge to comment that Ross had taken the job. "So, did MI6 try to make you teach any classes yet?"

Alex sighed. "Yes."

Gordon was now manically grinning. "There's got to be a story behind that grumpy-ass yes."

Alex wanted to facepalm, but his hands were currently tied. "Well, somebody got the brilliant idea to make me teach a firearms class. The thing is, I didn't actually know which ones MI6 uses because all of my shooting classes were with you. I had to ask my partner on the way up. It didn't go that great. Nobody took me seriously. I mean, I look sixteen. So then, I demonstrated my creepily good shooting abilities and then everybody started gossiping because I "shoot like an assassin". I mean, it's almost like I was taught by them."

Gordon snorted loudly at that. "Then, some guy decided that creeping up on the 'possibly an MI6 assassin' was the way to go and I shot him."

Gordon shrugged. "It's okay. One less incompetent fuck who works for MI6."

Alex sighed. He walked into that one. "I shot him nonlethally, Ross."

Ross jolted. "You missed a close shot?! Remedial lessons are happening the day we get out of here!"

Alex wondered sometimes about Ross's sanity. "I wasn't aiming to kill him."

Gordon sat back. "Oh, good."

Alex paused. "Ross, we're on opposite sides. I don't think you're allowed to teach me stuff anymore."

Gordon huffed. "Says who? Our bosses? They don't have to know anything."

Alex could see several problems with this plan. "Are you serious?"

Gordon sounded dead serious. "Yes. I'm a free man. I can do what I want."

Alex leaned back in his chair. "No, I meant about wanting me to live. I mean, I work for MI6."

Gordon shook his head. "No, you were enslaved to them and now you have Stockholm syndrome because they're being semi-nice now. You forgave the CIA from actual torture, dude. I don't think you're sane, but it's okay. I'm not really sane anymore either."

Alex just sort of sat there. The guards were banging down to them. "Guards are coming."

Gordon nudged his shoulder. "Yeah, pretend to be asleep."

* * *

The quiet lasted for a long while. "So, got any more stories?"

Alex had almost fallen asleep. "Gordon, I am feeling the slight but uncontrollable urge to strangle you in your sleep."

Ross retorted. "Good luck, we're both tied to a chair."

Alex sighed and tried to shift to put some blood flow back into his hands. "What now?"

Ross shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to talk about your murderous career in MI6, we can play a game."

Alex was instantly suspicious. In his defense, Gordon was a terror in his classes. "Like what?"

Gordon seemed a little too cheerful. "I-Spy."

Alex retorted. "I fucking hate you and I spy with my little eye something grey."

Gordon replied without missing a beat. "Now that's not very nice and it's a grey block."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yep."

Ross was irritatingly cheerful, which was normally his role. "I spy with my little eye something made of steel."

Alex sighed. "The bars of our cells are made of iron, Gordon."

Gordon huffed. "I'll bet you're a riot at parties."

Alex replied. "I am, just not ones with tigers and booze. I've got _standards_."

Ross snorted. "Dude, nobody liked those parties."

Alex tried and failed to get his wrist out of the rope. "So, what happened after you got raided? Jones never tells me anything."

Ross replied. "I'll bet she didn't tell you we got raided. Eh, Alex? Why don't you just be honest with yourself and switch sides. Hell, you already let Walker out of containment."

Alex huffed. "That's different, Gordon. One, I actually like him. Two, he was my classmate."

Gordon retorted. "Why waste that effort on _him_, though? That'll be like the eighth time you've saved that little twerp's life."

Alex was doing his best to arch his back. He was sore. It was a bit hard when both his arms and his legs were tied. "It's the third time, Ross. And he's at least eight centimeters taller than you. Don't exaggerate."

Ross snorted. "Third. Man, he's more useless than tits on a nun. You should have shot him instead."

Alex withheld the sigh he was dying to let out. Just because Walker wasn't that great at taking care of himself without a partner, didn't mean he deserved to die. "Ross."

Gordon was on a roll. "I mean, first you have to tutor him for like half his classes, including-"

Alex tried to interject, but kind of failed. "Ross."

Gordon continued plowing through his speech. "Then you save his miserable ass with CPR during water exercises and then you drag him thirty miles through the African Congo because the idiot got himself infected and concussed."

Alex sighed. "Ross."

The man ignored him in favor of his rant. "I mean, can we say deadweight, anyone? Like, seriously, if you had to pick your date from your classmates, why not Amanda, who liked you? Walker's not even that handsome. Hell, Klaus was hotter, quieter, and way less of a liability."

Alex gagged a bit at that. Klaus was also not any fun and definitely not his type. "_Gordon_."

That got the man's attention. "Yeah?"

Alex glared at the wall. "I'm not dating Walker. Or anybody else, for that matter."

Gordon huffed. "Could've fooled me."

Alex sighed. "Oh, shut up."

Gordon retorted. "Make me."

Alex felt his eye twitch. "I'm going punch you when we get out of here."

Gordon huffed. "I would like to see you try. It might be fun."

* * *

Alex actually managed to drift off to sleep. He wasn't sure how long it was before he woke up. Gordon was, predictably, an annoyance. "Hey Gordon, I see a grate. Do you think it's big enough for me to escape from you in?"

Gordon squinted. "Naw. Maybe when you were fourteen. Not now, though."

Alex leaned back in his chair. "I'm bored."

Ross shifted behind him. "You can tell me more stories."

Alex sighed. "Dear God, you're worse than Tom. I never thought I would see the day."

Ross snorted. "Hey, we teachers have got to do something to keep our lives interesting. Gossip is so much fun, just not in front of the bosses."

Alex rolled his eyes. Unapologetic gossips, the lot of them. It really was like a prissy boarding school. Complete with insane teachers, hypercompetitive students, way-to-good cafeteria food, and "suggested" office hours. At three in the morning. Because normal classes started at four-thirty in the morning. Alex wondered when exactly you were supposed to sleep, but hadn't asked. "Torturing your poor, unfortunate students isn't enough?"

Ross snorted. "Look, we weren't that bad."

Alex fired back. "Yermalov had his office hours at three in the bloody morning."

Alex was of the opinion that the man was clinically insane. "Why did you need his office hours? He's the combat instructor."

Alex rolled his. "Because I needed extra help to keep up, you insensitive twerp. Being fourteen in assassin school has downsides. Like lack of muscle mass."

Gordon smirked. "What, so it wasn't magic?"

Alex huffed. "Why don't you go fall off the nearest cliff, Gordon?"

The man retorted. "It's a bit hard to do when tied to you and two chairs, sugar plum."

Alex was rolling his eyes. "I'm sure you'll manage somehow. Those survival classes might come in handy for you for a change."

Gordon forgot he was tied to a chair and attempted to elbow Alex. The rope broke his skin and drew blood. "Bloody hell."

Alex sighed. "What now?"

Gordon huffed. "Well, now we wait for the slow bastards to call us up. Presumably, we're still alive because they want something from us."

Alex arched a brow. "Or they're just incompetent. Do you know how many times I've gotten away because they decided a gunshot just wasn't dramatic enough?"

Gordon wanted to groan at the slew of memories. "I can guess. There's always that one guy that murders someone with a spoon when they have perfectly good weapons strapped to them."

Alex paused. "Wait, really? I mean, I do that because I'm not allowed weapons at MI6."

Gordon paused. "What do you mean you're not allowed to have weapons at MI6?"

Alex rotated his shoulder as far as it would go while he was tied up. "Exactly what I said. No guns. No lethal gadgets. Not even a bloody combat knife. Four inches and shorter only."

Gordon paused. "Wow. Alan Blunt just reached new levels of bastardy that I didn't know were even possible. What the hell? You've faced some of the deadliest people on the planet. Also, you've trained as an assassin. No weapons?! Are you shitting me?!"

Alex was amused that Gordon's reaction was the same as his own. "I wish. I've been asking for a gun each mission since I was fourteen and on my first one."

There was a long pause. "Alex."

Alex raised an eyebrow at a grey brick he'd named Gordon. It made a decent substitute for the man's face. "Yes?"

Alex wasn't sure what tone that voice was in. "Quit your job. Seriously."

Alex sat back. "I would if I had a real choice."

Gordon occasionally felt like screaming. "You do."

Alex sounded tired. "Non-criminal options."

Gordon was taking deep breaths. He was tempted to scream at the kid. "I know at least two agencies who would take you. And let you have weapons. Come _on_, Alex."

Alex didn't say anything. Gordon really hoped the kid was reconsidering his career options. No weapons? That was a new low, even for Blunt. It was quiet for quite a while.

* * *

The two of them both bolted awake at the cell door being opened. There were eight guards. "Eight? Huh."

Gordon was rubbing his wrists. Alex took a small amount of glee in noting Gordon's wrists were missing more skin than his. "Yeah, I know. If it were two, we'd be out of here."

Gordon was promptly whacked upside the head. "Ow. How come _he _doesn't get whacked for talking?"

The guards, of course, did not answer. They were basically marched up to a relatively plain-looking office. Alex was surprised. Usually, if there was money and SCORPIA involved, the people tended to have fancier offices. Then again, Gordon was in a cell and the office was still not the kind of office you could afford on a government salary. Well, only a government salary. If you sold state secrets on the other hand...Gordon was, for once, being quiet. Alex was actually a bit unnerved. The man was normally difficult to shut up at the best of times. Gordon looked at him. Alex raised an eyebrow. The door opened on them. "Come in. Sit down."

Alex couldn't resist replying. "I don't suppose we have a choice."

The cheery, lilting voice matched his joking tone. "Not in the slightest. Do come in. I don't think you want to see me uncivilized."

Alex came in. There was a surprisingly large breakfast set out. Gordon was eyeing with no small amount of suspicion. Alex felt the resignation set in and decided to eat. Gordon looked at him like he was insane. He was struck by the man's appearance. The principal of the "school" he was investigating - there had been a nasty crop of assassination schools for children popping up in recent years. Alex was on the edge of not looking like a child anymore, but he could still pass for the late teenager he was. The man reminded him of a corporate lawyer. Alex was definitely getting a slimy vibe off of him. He would almost be attractive if his appearance and demeanor hadn't slipped into uncanny valley. The teeth were porcelain white. The hair, while greying, was perfectly slicked back. The clothes looked expensive and the watch was just the sort of flashy, slightly-too-big affair you might expect from a successful corporate lawyer. "You should get a different watch."

The man looked at Alex. "Why pray tell?"

Gordon just continued to eye him. "You would look less like a slimy lawyer if your watch was smaller."

Alex heard the redhead sharply inhale. What? This guy was Greasy. "Why don't you tell Gordon why it's safe to eat?"

Alex shrugged. "If he wanted to poison us, he would have either injected us at the door or had our food separate. He doesn't look worn down enough for developing an immunity."

Gordon continued to eye to food suspiciously but took a very tiny spoonful. "Why thank you."

Alex realized you could take his comment as a compliment of sorts. "So, why haven't you shot us yet?"

Gordon choked on his food. Alex was deliberately trying to provoke the man. He wanted his supervillain speech. It was practically a tradition at this point. "Well, while your bickering in the cell was amusing, I do have a few questions for you."

Alex shifted in his seat. "Did MI6 _really_ not give you any weapons?"

Alex sighed. It was not something he wanted to be advertised. "Yes, really. Don't ask me why. Even the gadget master agrees with me."

Gordon was sniggering into his orange juice. "Oh, shut up, Ross."

Alex was horrified to see that he and Greasy had spoken at the same time. Alex piped up a second later. "On second thought, talk all you want."

Gordon perked up. Greasy immediately shot him down. "Gentlemen, I want this breakfast to end sometime before noon."

Alex sighed. "What do you really want?"

Gordon seemed to have given up eating. Choking hazard, maybe. "My students, for lack of a better word, don't do half as well in the field as you. I want to know why."

That was a new one. Alex leaned back into his chair. "Can't help you there, sorry. I'm a schoolboy, not a psychiatrist."

Greasy gave him a very sharky smile. "I think you can."

Gordon was looking in between them like he wanted to run from the room. "Nope. That would require actual self-reflection. Screw that shit."

Gordon snorted orange juice from his nose. Alex threw a napkin at him. "Alex."

Alex returned his attention to Greasy. "Look. It was pure luck, I swear."

Alex ignored the memories that came up that required actual skill. "Hardly."

Denial-land was a nice place to be. "What do you want from me?"

Greasy blinked. "I'm not quite sure myself."

Gordon was shifting uncomfortably. "Fine. What do you want from Gor-Ross?"

Greasy got himself more fruit. "Simple. I've been collecting all of your former instructors who are still living. Perhaps the same teachers will garner the same results."

Alex tilted back in his chair. He was hoping Greasy would let his guard down. "Look, even my assassin class had variations in ability. I mean, you heard Gordon go on about Walker, right?" Alex heard a cough from the redhead that sounded suspiciously like "useless deadweight", but refrained from commenting. "Wait, who else is here?"

Greasy smirked. "I believe I am asking the questions here."

Alex shrugged and cut into the pineapple. "Then why was Gordon in a cell?"

Greasy sighed. "He was feeling uncooperative."

Alex looked at the man. "This from the guy who lectured me on self-preservation. Tsk. Tsk. Gordon."

Gordon, ever so maturely, threw one of the obnoxiously perfect pieces of pineapple at him. Alex ducked and pocketed one of the matchbooks that were lying on the table. "Boys."

Alex had the grace to look chastened. Greasy didn't seem to notice the missing matches. The man gestured at Ross. "Take him back to their cell. I want to speak to Alex privately."

* * *

Gordon was then hauled out of the room. Alex sat back in his chair. He was alone now like he'd always been since that one fateful night in Chelsea. "Well, Alex. I've been waiting a long time for this moment."

Alex arched a brow. "You have? Why?"

The last time he had heard that sentence, it hadn't ended well. "One could ask you the same question."

Alex shifted ever so slightly in his chair. "What do you mean?"

Greasy paused in the middle of his eating and placed his knife and fork down. "Why do any of it? Why keep going? Why not run away from MI6? You have the resourcefulness to do so. I highly doubt they would expend the effort to imprison your friends."

Alex scowled. "That's what you think."

The man paused and took off his obnoxiously matchy glasses. "Don't I? Tell me, child, what do you think I was before I decided to run this school?"

Alex examined the man much more closely. "A sharky, sharky mob lawyer."

The man actually chuckled. "Yes. Quite. You see, not one child in my school got that answer correct. You really are extraordinary."

The man's approval made Alex feel unclean. "How did you get Gordon and the rest of the lot?"

The former lawyer paused. "I became quite influential once SCORPIA fell. Someone had to fill the vacuum, you know. People need their money laundered and their housing deeds legitimate-looking and so on. Eventually, I had enough people working for me that I was effectively just as protected as a SCORPIA boss, so to speak."

Alex looked at the man. He must be good. "In only a year?"

Greasy looked especially pleased with himself. Alex, if he was being honest with himself, would admit that the man's rise in power was almost prodigious. "I was well-connected on both sides before, you know."

Alex sighed. "Which brings me back to why you need me."

Greasy sighed. "It's not that I really need you. It's more that having you would make my life a bit more convenient."

Alex was confused. Hadn't the man heard about all of his antics? "I disagree. Haven't you read my file? I shot the Prime Minister. Twice. While working for MI6. I've caused millions of pounds in property damage like five times. I throw knives at my coworkers. I've driven three MI6 agents straight into the asylum. Most of my partners die horribly. I never get anybody alive despite only being issued non-lethal gear. I'm pretty much the least secret secret agent ever. I've betrayed my agency at the drop of a hat. I've worked with other allies without asking for permission. I could go on. I mean, _I _would totally fire me."

The man's cool blue eyes looked amused. "Perhaps. But you remain the only person with a hundred percent success rate. You never fail. But your abilities aren't the only thing that interests me. You see, in the criminal world, you have something of a cult following. A good deal of them are terrified of you. Absolutely terrified. They think you _cannot _fail. Having you at my side would lend me a certain...legitimacy, shall we say. Every king needs his best knight."

Alex opened his mouth to reply. "No, don't answer now. Think about it. You could even just teach a class here. Teach children how to survive in this world. You wouldn't want any of them to get hurt, now would you? You could help them."

Alex had never wanted to strangle another man more. How _dare _he lay the blame for his sick scheme at Alex's feet. He was going to rescue those kids. Every last one. Then, he was going to kill this motherfucker and burn the place to the ground. He had a sinking suspicion Gordon might help him. Alex forced himself to reply. "I'll think about it."

He tried not to hiss it through his teeth. Alex was promptly returned to his cell.

* * *

Gordon pretended to be asleep until the guards left. "So, what happened after I left?"

Alex got the matches out of his pocket. The ropes would burn a little faster than their skin. "I got a job offer."

Gordon snorted with laughter. "Really? What position?"

Alex leaned back and handed Gordon the matchbook. "Teaching with a side of second-in-command."

Gordon touched his hand and drew the symbol they used for fire in SCORPIA. "Then why the fuck are you still here?"

Alex struck the match. No dice. "The same reason you are, Gordon."

Alex tried again with the same match. "And why would that be?"

Alex struck the match a third time and felt the flame nearly burn his fingers as he touched it to the ropes that were attached to him a Gordon. He launched his arm out as the heat began eating toward his skin. With any luck, he would get away with first degree burns. "You don't want a boss like that."

Gordon jolted a moment after him. Alex took a few deep breaths. "You're not wrong. Other side now, do you think?"

Alex pulled another math from the book Gordon gave him. He twisted so he was facing their two bound arms. Alex struck it and set the other side of the rope on fire. "Was it deliberate?"

Gordon just looked at him. "What do you think?"

Alex couldn't honestly say. They both knew the guards were going to come soon. Alex easily untied his legs. Gordon was already free. The rope they had quickly shaken off was still burning. "Should we put it out?"

Ross shrugged. "Nah. See, Rider, this is what a non-deadweight partner does. You notice I'm not concussed. Or infected with malaria. Or tied up in MI6 where they're actually competent at keeping prisoners."

Alex rolled his eyes. Would Gordon ever give it a rest? No probably not. "Shut up, Ross."

Gordon huffed. Alex suspected he was covering a snort up. "Ready, Alex?"

Alex gave him a sarcastic look. "For what?"

Ross sighed. "My visit to your house, Alex, what else?"

Alex gave him a mock innocent look. "And here I thought you meant beating up the guards."

Speaking of the guards. Two had come to investigate the smoke smell. They froze at the edge of the cell when they realized the two men were free. They gaped in shock like fish. Alex didn't hesitate before wrapping the rope around the neck of one and beginning to choke him out. Gordon simply broke the other guy's neck with an elegant snap of the rope. "Really, Alex? They are holding you prisoner."

Gordon grabbed the rope from his hands and with the same efficient movement, the other guard's neck broke with a sickening snap. Alex instinctively caught the keys through the bars as the man's corpse fell to the floor. Ross was giving him an expectant look as Alex unlocked the door from the inside with the key. Alex searched the guard for weapons, very stringently not focusing on the fact that there was a corpse in front of him that he was robbing. They both ended up with firearms.

* * *

Alex was shocked that he hadn't even ended up needing the gun. Gordon had somehow talked their way into a nearby hotel. Alex and his "Uncle Gordon" were sharing a room together. Alex wondered if that had been a deliberate swipe at the death of his uncle or not. He decided he didn't have the energy to care at the moment. Gordon was now poking him. It reminded him of Tom. Seriously. Alex lifted the pillow from his head. "What do you want?"

Gordon gave a very Tom-like huff. This was getting mentally disturbing. "Rude."

Alex threw the pillow in the man's general direction. Alex rolled his neck and dodged the pillow that was thrown right back at him. "What now?"

Ross grinned. It resembled how Alex imagined a particularly pleased panther might look. "You can drop the in-shock act now. We're in the room."

Alex grumbled under his breath. It sounded vaguely like a death threat. "What? Do you want a hug now, Gordon?"

Gordon chucked a pillow at his head. "No. I was going to ask whether you wanted a volunteer to help burn down Ol' Greasy's palatial palace."

Alex snorted at Gordon's description. He made it sound like a cheap strip club. "Uh, sure. Why are you being so nice?"

Ross paused for the longest time. "Well, you see, unlike the kiddies, MI6 is not going to want to help out me and my colleagues. So, how do you feel about us as houseguests?"

Alex let his mouth drop open in shock. "You want to _what_?!"

Gordon gave him a look. "Stay at your house. With my fellow teachers."

Alex's eyes flashed dangerously. "You are _not _running an assassin school at _my _house."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Not like that. We just want to stay until we can find a place that won't have ripening in the holding cell as a prerequisite for the job."

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. He could already feel the incoming headache. "Fine. No screwing my friends. No screwing the housekeeper. Act like you're civilized. And if I find one drug lab in my house, I will _skin_ the responsible party _alive_."

Gordon huffed. "We're not stupid, Alex. We all know you and your best friend threw that drug dealer off a high place for dealing at your school."

Alex paused. "That's not quite what happened, but I'm going to let it go since you won't believe me anyway."

Gordon shrugged. "What? I find your little stories entertaining."

Alex rolled his eyes and threw himself down on the bed. "I'm too tired to entertain you at the moment."

Jack was going to kill him for inviting weird adults over without asking. It was going to be a long next couple of weeks.

* * *

**Fin**


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